


A Little Off

by ListenClose



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Bloodplay, Gunplay, Knifeplay, Love at first attempted murder, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ListenClose/pseuds/ListenClose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We’re not supposed to pick up hitch-hikers because they may be serial killers. However, serial killers often pick up and kill hitch-hikers. Therefore, has a serial killer ever picked up another serial killer and did they become best friends?<br/>#road trip rom com #their hands brush while reaching for the gun"</p>
<p>He has Dean pinned in the dirt when he finally presses the knife - his favourite - to Dean's throat, just enough pressure to be a real threat. Dean's eyes don't widen in fear like he expects, though. They narrow briefly, then Dean starts laughing. Loudly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Off

Dean doesn't live anywhere in particular, but looking around he has to admit this city's probably his favourite. It's a city of dark corners, where half the people have vicious smiles and the other half avert their eyes. Dean doesn't stand out here. Other places, he just walks through the door and people brace themselves for trouble. Not that they ever get any. Not in public, anyway. The jobs he takes probably cause all kinds of trouble in quieter towns, but he takes care of that stuff in the shadows. Sure, he likes to blow off a little steam by blowing a few holes into strangers' faces, but they're the type people are glad to be rid of and it's not something he particularly wants to do in front of people. No, the most trouble anyone ever actually sees him get into is destroying the competition at illegal fighting rings, and those people can't complain when they pay to see it. 

Dean's leaning against the wall of a long-closed factory, hood up, chain smoking, waiting for the money he's owed. There's plenty of money around in a town like this for a man like him. None of the big companies can really operate here without making deals in back alleys just as well as they do in boardrooms, and Dean has a decent enough reputation (efficient, brutal, not easily turned by a higher bidder) that the biggest of them always has work for him when he happens to pass through. This time and the time before have been abduction, interrogation, lots of mess but people still breathing at the end of it. It's generous pay but something inside Dean is itching for more, and now the sun's setting he's starting to feel downright predatory. Someone's dying tonight. A car pulls up in front of him - finally - and he huffs out one last breath of smoke, stubbing the cigarette out on the wall before he pushes himself off it. The back window rolls down and Dean doesn't hide the amused twist to his mouth when he realises the boss lady herself has come to bring him his pay. Interesting. 

"There could be a lot more of this, if you want it," she tells him as she hands it over. She quirks an eyebrow when he pointedly pockets it without counting. They're never short, and counting money in front of clients reminds him of the hunger that never quite left him.

"Yeah, well, I ain't always around," he replies, "not what you'd call reliable, not the type to join up with your - you know." He shrugs, looking up the road as he shifts his weight between his feet.

"I'm not talking about a permanent position, I'm well aware you wouldn't consider that," she says. "There's going to be quite an upset at the end of next month, we anticipate a lot of instability. You could be very helpful to us during such an unsettled time and we would, of course, compensate you quite generously."

"Hmm," is the reply she gets as she smiles patiently at Dean while he fidgets in place, still staring at nothing in particular. She knows he's watching her out of the corner of his eye, he can tell, always unnerves him when someone notices. There's always something unsettling about her. "I'll keep it in mind," he nods, "might take you up on that - if I'm around, anyway."

"We'll be in touch," she tells him right before the car pulls away, heading back to the shinier side of town. Dean squints in the general direction for a while, a neon haze luring travellers to their doom. He turns his back on the colours and as walks with no particular aim, running his hand over spray painted walls and chain link fences while his boots draw satisfying broken glass crunches, he almost feels at home. 

Seth's car looks expensive. It should, because it is. Black on black on black, and always kept in perfect condition because Seth takes it to the shop regularly for detailing. He has to, really. Blood stains might not show but the metallic smell can linger, and while he does his best not to make a mess in the car, accidents will happen. At least he can afford it, his job at his dad's company giving him decent enough pay. He'll branch out on his own as soon as he's in a position to, has too much raw ambition to pour himself into a company that isn't his and likely never will be, but he's in a good position for now. Money, looks, enough connections in a corrupt city to keep him untouchable no matter what he does. If anyone knows that his form of stress relief involves cutting strangers to pieces, they say nothing about it. He can get away with just about anything. He's not a bad guy. He can count on one hand the number of true _innocents_  in his home town but even so, he has a real knack for finding the nastier guys, guys who smell money on him and figure they can rough him up a little for an easy ransom. Guys who end up bleeding out on the side of the road or sinking down to the riverbed. He knows people with worse hobbies, though. It's not like he's a psychopath or anything. If he turns his music up loud enough, the screaming distracts him from those kinds of thoughts nicely. As does the sight of a scruffy-haired guy in a leather jacket sticking his thumb out, because who the fuck actually thinks someone in a car like this would pick up a hitcher in this part of town? Probably one of those same see-the-rich-kid-as-an-easy-target types. Seth's grinning as he pulls over. 

"Hey man, you need a ride somewhere?" Seth asks, giving his very best disarming smile. 

"Nah," the guy replies, and Seth blinks at him because _what_ , "not uh - no plan, y'know? Just a change of scene - other side of town, out of town, out of state, hell if I care 's'long as it's not _right here_ , right?" He grins at Seth, wolfish, "you always listen to that shit or you just trying to scare me away?"

"What?" Seth splutters, _who even is this guy?_ "Hey, man, if you'd rather just walk-"

"Didn't say that. I'm Dean, by the way. You gonna give me a ride or what?" For a second, Seth reconsiders. A guy walking these streets alone with this level of confidence, twitching around the way he is, eyes darting in every direction - it just feels like trouble. Dangerous. Instead he nods to the door as he unlocks it and Dean climbs in, asks, "so where are we headed?"

"Uh," Seth rubs at his beard for a second, considering, "out of town - just anywhere? Really?"

"It's your car, man, do whatever you like with it," Dean says, seemingly unperturbed by the uncertainty, "why? You feeling the need for somewhere new yourself - uh - you didn't tell me your name?"

"Seth. Yeah. I have friends in Riverside, you know it? I was planning on heading over there in the next couple of days, so," he lies, shrugging. Spur of the moment has never been his thing, but it's like he can't help but make this terrible decision. 

"Seth," Dean says, testing the word. "Well, Seth, why not?"

 

-

 

The drive to Riverside is a good three hours and Dean's starting to like this guy, this punk kid turned corporate star, athletic type who thinks too much, disjointed life with the hair to match. He's torn, because there's been this need building inside of him for the last few days, a need to _take_ , to end someone the way he was almost - coping mechanism, superstition, whatever its name it's starting to eat away at him. He said a little more than he wanted to, let slip some of his past and some of the darkness of his present and wishes he could take it back. This guy's eyeing him in a way that can really only be described as predatory, despite that, and those creepy fucks who want to take advantage of what they perceive as his misfortune are always his favourite to blow holes into - but this one's also hot as hell. Not Dean's type, not really, but there's something dark in his eyes and he has a little smirk sometimes when he talks, and Dean can _tell_ he's cut under that shirt, so he's ok with this night maybe going a little differently.

Seth's never been attracted to a potential victim before. He feels like he should probably be a little more panicked by the paths his mind is suddenly running down, because sex has never been a factor in this little hobby of his and it's not something he'd want to make a habit of. He really didn't think he was the type to mix sex with the level of violence he was looking for until this moment but - well, this guy might be willing but Seth doubts he'd be willing to go through with anything Seth's started thinking about. That's not a line he's going to cross. He's pretty sure it's a question of taste more than ethics since he has no problem watching someone writhe about in agony as he trails his knife over - Seth has to swallow hard and force his mind down another path, because that turned into a mental image of Dean quicker than he wants to admit. The desert roads are pitch black and empty and as Seth pulls over, muttering about needing to take a piss, he doesn't know if he's making his move or just trying to clear his head.

Dean makes his decision for him when he decides to get out of the car too, to stretch his legs. Of course someone that twitchy can't sit in a car for an hour without bolting at the first chance he gets. It's only when his back that Seth notices how wide his shoulders are and realises this might be a little more difficult than he first thought, Dean's posture and demeanour making him seem less of a threat than judging from his frame alone. He still goes down easily enough with the element of surprise on Seth's side. He has Dean pinned in the dirt when he finally presses the knife - his favourite - to Dean's throat, just enough pressure to be a real threat. Dean's eyes don't widen in fear like he expects, though. They narrow briefly, then Dean starts laughing. Loudly. 

"Oh, man, this is too fucking much," he says. Seth blinks at him. "You're gonna kill me now? What, you pulled over to murder me on the side of the road? I can't even tell you-" he laughs again, and Seth is so confused that he pulls back just slightly. That's all Dean needs, and a second later Seth is being held down by his body weight and there's a gun pressed to his temple. Oh. "Jinx," Dean growls in his ear, and there's a madman holding him down with a gun to his head but the madman has a voice that's doing things to him, and Seth can't clear his mind. "You're into this?" Dean asks, shifting his hips to press down just right. He laughs when Seth moans, moves the gun to his mouth and his voice just gets rougher, "yeah? Fuck. Yeah, suck it like you wanna suck my cock, slut." 

Seth scoffs because yeah, he's really going to take a loaded gun into his mouth - is the safety even - but the barrel rests on his lower lip and his tongue flicks out to meet it before he can stop himself. Dean smirks at him so Seth gives him a show, moaning and bucking his hips up as he takes the gun's length into his mouth. When his lip meets Dean's fingers, he lets his eyes flutter closed and flicks the tip of his tongue out and over them. Dean's hand shakes and he curses, and Seth suddenly realises holy fuck, there's a _loaded gun,_ starts to panic slightly as his mind finally catches up but Dean's already pulling it back, making a vaguely soothing sound as he does. Seth's freaking out a little because he has no idea what he's gotten himself into but he's not sure he wants to get out of it. Dean's leaning back and eyeing him warily, gun nowhere to be seen, and Seth's always been big on capitalising on any opening he's given. He shifts his hips and manages to twist enough that Dean is off balance, pushes, and maybe Dean goes down a little easy but now they're back to where they started.

Dean grins, challenging. "Back to the slitting my throat thing, huh?" he drawls, and it's only now that Seth realises he's still holding on to the knife. He presses it to Dean's neck more by instinct than anything, surprised when Dean tilts his head back to further expose the line of his throat. Seth applies just enough downward pressure that the threat is there, without breaking the skin, and when he looks up he sees Dean practically biting right through his own lip.

"It's ok, Dean, you can moan for me," he purrs, allowing just the tip of the blade to cut the skin right at Dean's collarbone. Dean's face twists, and he pants with the effort of holding back a moan. "Stubborn? I think I can do something about that," Seth says casually as he cuts through Dean's shirt. "Oops," he laughs, purposely catching the skin of Dean's chest as he does so. Dean whines, bucks his hips, grips Seth's jeans with one hand as he tries to grind upward. Seth wants to lean into it, but instead he shifts up and laughs right into Dean's face as he growls his frustration. They both move instantly to close the distance between their mouths, weirdly in sync and both so fucking hard as they grind against each other. They're biting at each other's mouths more than they're kissing, but they're both moaning and gasping and something just clicks. They both shudder when they move apart, staring at each other in wonder for a second before Seth grins wickedly and cuts quickly at Dean's collarbone once more, Dean's head falling back as he moans.

"Now who's the slut, Dean, huh?" Seth asks, drawing the knife across his chest again, a little deeper this time. "It seems like you could come just from this," he says, smirking when Dean's hiss becomes a groan of pleasure, "could you? Could you get off just from a _knife_? You're sick. That's fucked up, Deano, there's something wrong with you, that you're getting this fucking hard from me -" he slides the blade across Dean's stomach, watching the muscles there twitch "-cutting you open like this, just from bleeding for me." 

"I'm fucked up?" Dean forces out, his voice rough, "what does that make you?" 

"Maybe we're both a little off, then," Seth laughs, dropping his head to lap up a trail of blood from Dean's hip crease.

"Fuck," Dean moans, "c'mere, come-" as soon as Seth raises his head, Dean's mouth is on his, licking his own blood from Seth's tongue. Seth wants this forever. "Kinda startin' to like you, Seth," Dean mutters against his mouth, "but I swear, if you don't get inside me right fuckin' now, I'll-" 

"Fuck," Seth mutters, and then almost shouts it, "fuck, damn it I don't have any-"

"Fuck it," Dean bites at Seth's lip, licks the sting away, "might not look it but I swear I'm clean and you've gotta be, real boy scout type, right, so-"

"I'm not going to fuck you without lube," Seth cuts him off, cursing himself for not predicting the most ridiculous set of events that ever happened to him.

"Well, fuck you, Seth," Dean sounds genuinely annoyed and Seth blinks down at him, "shit, you were going to fucking _murder_  me, Seth-"

"Well, I changed my mind about that when I got a good look at you," Seth laughs, but Dean's not listening to him, still complaining.

"You were happy to fucking murder me but you draw the line at making me a little uncomfortable for a while, what the actual fuck, _Seth_ , not like I haven't - like I can't handle it - I need this ok, I need _you_ ," Dean slams his head back hard against the ground as he yells in frustration.

"Hey, come on," Seth soothes as he grabs Dean's head, startled, "don't-"

"You went from wanting me dead to being soft on me pretty fucking fast," Dean growls but he's almost smiling, "ok pretty boy, got another idea?"

"We've got mouths and hands and friction, all right? I think we can work something out here," Seth murmurs between nipping at Dean's jaw, "five seconds ago you almost came from spilling a little blood, I don't think it'll be too difficult."

"Fuck off," Dean says, but there's no heat in his tone. He pulls Seth tight against him by his belt loops, positions his mouth right next to Seth's ear and _growls_. There's no way for Seth to disguise the shiver that runs through him. Dean shifts his thigh between Seth's legs, huffs out a laugh when Seth starts shamelessly humping against it, and drops his voice to the filthiest tone he can while he rasps, "gotta be real careful, if you're gonna start makin' fun of things people like - even if we forget how up close and personal you got with my gun just now, look how desperate you are just from my voice." He growls again and Seth whimpers. Dean lets his own hips buck up, bites at Seth's earlobe and whispers, "you'd look so pretty falling apart for me, if we could take this a little slower." He almost regrets saying it, because this isn't going to happen more than once, but he can picture it so clearly that his breath catches in his throat. 

Dean tries to flip them both over again, but Seth catches himself partway and for a moment they're lying on their sides, still grinding against each other, half laughing and half snarling. A moment later they're rolling over one another, twisting and turning for leverage while they try to maintain a pleasurable amount of friction to their dicks. Dean finally gets Seth's shirt off and bites and licks at every inch of skin he can reach every time their position changes. They're both growling and moaning in equal measure now, losing themselves more and more with every noise they hear. There's an occasional wince or gasp when something is _too much_  or _not enough_ , and suddenly Dean twists to his left and realises too late that the ground gives way just there. They slide down a bank, cursing and grinding the whole way, clinging to each other, Dean's shoulder and back getting scratched by loose stones as he tries to leverage Seth away from the ground. When they finally come to a halt, it takes Dean just a couple more quick thrusts of his hips to come in his pants, shaking and gasping against Seth's shoulder - he, Dean realises, came at some point during their fall. They lie there for a few long minutes, still tangled up, trying to catch their breath. When they finally manage to part and pull themselves to their feet, they don't look at each other as they scale the hill silently. More than once, one of them reaches out to catch or steady the other, the loose ground and darkness working against them. 

"Holy shit," Seth says when they finally reach his car.

"Yeah," Dean breathes, his face unreadable. He watches Seth pick up his knife and wipe it off without making another sound.

"So uh - you still feeling the urge to use that thing?" Seth asks, nodding to Dean's discarded handgun. Dean visibly tenses.

"Christ. Seth. I'm not gonna kill you after-"

"No, no, man, I was thinking more like maybe we could, you know, go find someone together? Maybe not now, another night? I don't know," Seth shrugs. He can feel colour rising in his cheeks when it hits him how stupid that must sound.

"Do you - you asking me on a date? A murder date?" Dean laughs warmly, shakes his head. "This is a weird fucking night. There's a motel not far, if you wanna drop me off there? Or join me there?" He turns to pick up his gun and hears Seth wince. For just one moment, he gives himself the luxury of closing his eyes and grimacing with regret. His back is a mess of scars - really his whole body is but those are the most visible, the nastiest looking, and Seth's going to ask questions he doesn't want to hear answers to, and this beautiful fucked up stranger is going to be lost to him forever. As he straightens up he carefully schools his face, his expression blank as he turns back around. 

"Dean, fuck, you're - are you ok? Your shoulder got scraped pretty bad on the way down, huh?" Dean blinks, so Seth continues, "you're bleeding, it's not so bad but your skin looks pretty raw, guess you really took the worst of it, shit." Dean is still just blinking at him wordlessly when Seth pulls a towel out from a gym bag in the back of the car, wets it with some bottled water and presses it to Dean's shoulder blade cautiously. "It doesn't look like you got any grit in there, but-"

"Had worse," Dean replies, cautious, his throat tight.

"Yeah," Seth says easily, "but that doesn't stop this from hurting, right? Sorry, man, next time we slide down a rocky embankment I'll take the worst of it, all right?" His eyes are as warm and bright as his smile and Dean knows right then and there how fucked he is. 

"Next time?" is all Dean can manage to say, curses himself for it, for how revealing the crack in his voice is. 

"Uh," Seth falters, "I thought?" He looks down at the ground, uncertain, and Dean wants to say something, do something to make it right but he doesn't dare to move, the air between them turned fragile. "You felt it, right?" Seth asks, voice small.

"Yes," Dean tells him, emphatically, never more sure of anything in his life. He has no idea what _it_  is, but he felt it. Seth smiles at him, he smiles back. They're grinning like idiots at each other in a pitch black desert, covered in blood and dirt and halfway in love with a stranger, both content for the first time in an age. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so yes, this is a little messier than I would like but it became a question of "post it unfinished or never post it at all". First work posted to ao3 and it's a weird, half-baked AU that I didn't even fully finish :x Though that does sum me up pretty well, thinking about it (I have a verrrry long Shield Assassin's Creed AU that will probably never see the light of day, for example) so... sorry? You may never see an actual 100% finished work from me, lol.


End file.
